A new day began.
Same light. Same sound. Same protocol
She got up the same way as usual-mechanical, measured. But as she was about to press her hand up to the biometric scanner to unlock her wardrobe, she paused.
Faint. Practically nothing. But she logged the hesitation.
Her uniform was folded and pressed-just like always. Something was off… the edge of the collar was off by less than 2 millimeters. Not noticeable to the untrained eye-but to her, it was amiss.
She adjusted it. Logged the deviation. No report required. The Garden already knew
At 06:20 Nyra boarded the transport rail. She watched as the blur of symetry pass-structures, people, movement. Everything flowing without a singal inaccuracy.
Yet, that boy stood still in her mind.
She hadn't seen him since simulation lab 6.
And yet-
Internal Query Logged:
Subject 00117 – Requested Partner Reassignment History.
ACCESS DENIED – Level 5 clearance required.
She did not frown. But her eyes stayed fixed on the translucent screen longer than needed.
Simulation lab 3, today's task was solo.
Memory Stream Compression & Emotional Redaction
Nyra took her seat in the center of the isolation chamber, the neural threads begin warming against her skin. Memories flicker across the wall: conversations, scores, Academy drills. All data.
Then, without warning, a new memory appeared.
The boy.
Just like he was in sector 3-standing beneath the support pillar.
The flicker of light that spread across his jaw. How he looked up. Not at anyone. Just the sky.
"Begin redaction"
She had pressed the erase button.
System didn't respond.
That frame lingered.
She blinked. Once. Twice.
The Garden remained silent.
She finished.
She got up-her movements precise. She reaches the hallway, the lights flickered-once. Sharply.
She paused and looked up.
Nothing.
Silence.
But unknown to her, the system was watching her. For the first time in her life, she was unsure who it was watching for.
Her next activity: Taekwondo. Sector A13 training Hall.
The mats gleam under the lights, the smooth surface just sanatized.
The footfalls made zero sound. Every motion got recorded. Speed. Accuracy. Balance. No instructor. Just the drones.
Twenty students moved in perfect unity. The snap of the elbows. The breath of discipline. The same power. All the same, filtered through a system that was designed to remove style.
But Nyra, standing at the front of her lane, was a touch faster. Sharper.
Not out of emotion. Just instinct.
She moved without flaw. But as she completed the final movement - a spinning hook kick - she caught motion in her peripheral.
Him
Watching just beyond the glass. His hands behind his back.
Not supposed to be there.
She didn't mess up. But her stomp was a faction heavier. Fist clenched harder than they should have.
Emotional variance: 0.04
Flagged: Supressed reaction
Note: Contine passive observation of subject 00117
It wasn't a direct look. But it was enough to notice.
Her heart rate elevated-just slightly for exactly 3.7 seconds.
The Garden said nothing.